Shadow Self
by Madman007
Summary: A sequel to Drawing Of The Masks. Bruce Wayne is called back to Arkham for an official inquiry of his visit to the Joker. A young psychotherapist, however, is giving Bruce some questions that are unofficial.
1. Part 1

**Shadow Self**

**Drawing Of The Masks II**

**

* * *

Part I**

It had been five months since his last visit here. It still had the same run down look with paint peeling and lights missing. The only real difference now was the weather. It had been a balmy September weekend when Bruce Wayne took a tour of the Arkham facility. He wore a simple T-shirt and jeans then. Now in February, he was layered with his business suit and overcoat. Besides the climate change, Bruce didn't really expect any changes made to the facility. Despite his failure to convince the Wayne Industry partners that Arkham needed money, Bruce had donated an undisclosed amount to Arkham Asylum anyway. He suspected much of the money went to the administrators' golf funds. He had spent more for less in the past.

The improvements to the facility were not his primary purpose in September to begin with. Only a couple of people knew the true purpose of his last visit to Arkham. One of them was already a patient there for almost a year and a half. Bruce had at one time kept tabs on that patient's progress. Bruce had followed the reports he was getting from an undisclosed source within Arkham. Just from the reports alone, he could see that there was no progress to speak of. That's when Bruce decided to act.

His idea to show his shadow side to the Joker was not totally out of gloating, contrary to how a certain family servant had thought. It was also meant to show the Joker who he was dealing with. Bruce Wayne was a man in Gotham who was at the center of high society. Who would ever think to link him with the disguise of Batman? He also gave the Joker the notion that Batman could be anyone. Bruce never really came out to tell the Joker that he was Batman. He let the psychological fiend's imagination, or perhaps his own fears, to do the job for him. Just as the Joker had done to so many of his own victims.

Bruce wasn't afraid that someone would believe the Joker. The maniac was a mental patient. Anything he said would be analyzed but also taken with a grain of salt. Bruce considered the Joker as an updated version of the Man Who Cried Wolf. His own made up stories of his past played against the ones he told that were true. Bruce followed the reports since his meeting with the Joker to analyze anything he said in connection to Batman's identity.

He followed them, that is, until they suddenly stopped.

It wasn't long after that when he was summoned to an inquiry about his visit in September. It was a formal letter asking him to schedule a meeting at Arkham with one of the doctors to discuss the nature of his visit to the Joker. Inquiries were common enough, especially after a visit to one of their seriously mental patients. It was a series of questions about what the patient said, how they said it, and how the patient reacted to the visitor. Bruce expected one to come from his visit to the Joker, but he thought it would be sooner. Perhaps it was because it was off the record. Nevertheless, Bruce squeezed in a meeting out of his hectic day and night schedules.

Bruce arrived in his limo and exited the warmth of the vehicle to the coldness of the winter Gotham air. Arkham was so close to the river that the swirls of wind were somehow colder here. Or maybe it was from all the cold-blooded killers they kept inside of the facility. He entered through the front entrance, which was worlds away from the rest of the building. At this end, the walls were clean and white with bright lighting. This was where the high-end associates and doctors kept their offices.

The head administrator, the same as his last visit, came up to him. "Mr Wayne. Dr. Rich Moss, in case you didn't remember."

"I never forget a face."

"Of course. Thank you for scheduling so quickly. I know how busy you must be."

"You have no idea. Will this take long?"

"I expect not. Our main doctor who handles the Joker has some questions for you about your visit with him a few months ago. This way."

Bruce nodded absently as he followed Dr. Moss through the white-walled corridors of Arkham's offices. Dr. Moss chose one of the rooms and opened the door. Bruce followed him inside to see a female doctor sitting at a table. She stopped reading to address the two men who entered the room.

She looked to be in her thirties and mature. She was so lanky that her lab coat looked like it could fall to the floor at any moment. She wore her yellow-blonde hair in a single bun in the back, emphasizing her oversized glasses that she wore. Dr. Moss spoke first to announce her.

"Bruce Wayne, I'd like you to meet Dr. Harleen Quinzel."

She held out a hand for Bruce, which he shook. She spoke in a much higher pitch than was expected. "Bruce Wayne. The Gotham Legend."

Bruce corrected, "The Legend of Gotham was my father. I'm merely his follower." He nodded after he let go of her hand and greeted, "Dr. Quinzel."

"Oh, please call me Harley. I'm not as formal as some of these doctors in here."

"That could be refreshing," remarked Bruce, after which, they were treated to the sound of her piercing laugh.

Dr. Moss quickly interjected, "Dr. Quinzel is our intern from Gotham U. She has been working with the Joker ever since she arrived here."

Bruce uttered, "I'd say you have your work cut out for you."

Another high-pitched laugh before she replied, "Yeah, the Joker has been quite a project. I find him a fascinating subject, though."

Bruce nodded, "He is indeed. Though I only met him once for a few minutes. I'm not sure how I can help you with him."

Dr. Quinzel gave the wry answer, "I'll be able to determine that. I just have some questions about your visit with the Joker a few months ago."

Dr. Moss added, "I'm sure you'll understand, Mr. Wayne, that this is standard procedure with any visitor of our special patients."

"You mean the _really_ insane ones," quipped Bruce.

Harley said in a scolding voice, "Now, now, Mr. Wayne, you should know that 'insane' is a legal term, not a clinical one."

Bruce looked into her dark eyes. "My apologies for not being up on clinical terminology."

Harley turned to Dr. Moss and said, "I think I can take it from here, Dr. Moss. Could we have some privacy?"

"Of course," answered Moss. "Mr. Wayne, if you could come see me before you leave I'll escort you out."

"That'll be fine."

After Moss nodded his farewell and shut the door, Dr. Quinzel motioned to the second metal chair on the other side of the table. "Go ahead and sit down, Mr Wayne."

He pulled off his overcoat and hung it over the back of the chair before he sat down to say, "Bruce, please. I'm not as formal as some of the other billionaire playboys in Gotham."

Her screech of a laugh returned, making Bruce wish he had brought earplugs. She went on, "I see what you did there, Mr. Wayne–excuse me, _Bruce_. You took my earlier statement of ego and turned it into self-depreciating humor against yourself."

"You figured that out on your own?"

"Yep," she said almost too proudly.

"And _you're_ studying the Joker?"

Harley sighed. "I know I don't look the part of a therapist, Bruce. I assure you I am well informed in the area of psychoanalysis. I have interviewed several mentally unstable criminals in Arkham over the years."

"The Joker doesn't seem to be a typical criminal."

"Don't I know it."

"Tell me something, you are still interning here at Arkham? You seem pretty old to be a Senior."

"I'm working on my Masters. I plan using the Joker for my final thesis."

"Interesting. Well, if you need any help with any expenses along the way, feel free to contact me."

Harley smiled sweetly and stated sourly, "I think I can manage. Can we proceed?"

"By all means. Let's begin our _very_ private discussion about my visit with the Joker."

Harley suddenly had the look of a bruised ego. Guilt? "What do you mean by private?"

Bruce nudged his head toward the four upper corners of the walls that were empty. "No cameras in here. No wires for audio. All indications that you want my answers to be kept off the record."

Harley smiled humorlessly. "Were you always this much into specifics?"

Bruce shrugged. "Something else I inherited from my father."

"I'll keep that in mind." She sat down in the chair opposite him and started flipping back pages in her folder. "Now, according to Dr. Moss, you came to visit here for a tour of the facilities. Dr. Moss said you had a proposal to improve the conditions here at Arkham. We can see how well _that_ deal went."

Bruce dismissed her aloof and unprofessional manner and stated, "The board did turn me down on the deal. But, so as to not make a liar out of me to Dr. Moss, I donated an amount to Arkham anyway."

"How generous of you. So, during this tour you suddenly decide to meet the Joker."

Bruce shrugged again and said, "After Dr. Moss pointed out where his cell was, I thought it was the perfect time to see what the hype was about."

"Hype? What hype?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow and replied, "Now, Dr. Quinz–"

"Harley," she cried impatiently.

"Harley, excuse me. I'm not known for my knowledge of current events unless it has connections to my deals. But even I know that the two most popular subjects in Gotham today are the Joker and the Batman. Even the investors I deal with everyday can't go a day without a joke about the Joker or the Batman."

"Jokes? About the Joker? What kind of jokes are they?" Her tone was devoid of professionalism.

Bruce shrugged innocently. "Just off hand remarks. Nothing important. Anyway, I thought that would be my chance to meet at least one of the celebrity freaks in Gotham."

"Interesting. You don't think you'll meet the Batman?"

"Well, maybe when they catch him and he's brought here I can schedule another tour."

She smiled eerily and wrote something down in the report. She flipped another page and said, "Ok, you wanted to meet the Joker. How did you first approach him?"

I greeted him as I do everyone I meet for the first time. With a handshake."

Harley looked surprised. "And he took your hand?"

"No. He just stared at it and made a sarcastic remark."

She smiled. "Now, _that_ sounds like Joker. So, what did you two talk about?"

Bruce looked away as if he were remembering and replied, "I mentioned something about his makeup. He said he had to use wet chalk to get the same effect. That's how we discussed masks. How people each have their own."

"Interesting. What did you say yours was?"

"Actually, he said mine was in the shape of a checkbook."

She grinned. "So he knew who you were."

Bruce grinned back. "Of course. You can't go five states out of Gotham without knowing the name Bruce Wayne." Bruce felt a tinge of irony at using the words of Falcone in the place where he ended up.

Harley gave a nod, then asked, "What else did you talk about?"

Bruce let a breath out and replied, "I think I commented on his artwork."

She gave an eerily knowing grin. "Pretty accurate drawings of the Batman, wouldn't you say Bruce?"

Realizing the trap, but not knowing yet why it was set, Bruce questioned, "Now, why would I know about that?"

"I did some research on the Wayne mansion and the one you're rebuilding as we speak. It's in the Palisades. That area has a lot of hills and is said to have many caves."

Bruce allowed her to speak because he wanted to see where she thought she was going with this. He repeated, "Caves."

"Yes, caves. Where bats sometime live."

"Ok. And?"

"Isn't it true that you had a fear of bats at one time?"

Bruce was taken aback by the sudden question. It wasn't because it was so far off their main subject. It was too close. Too personal for a simple intern to be interested in. Then again, he had to remind himself. This intern was working with the Joker. What would he have told her about their meeting in September? Bruce played it close to the chest. He replied, "I...believe I did. When I was twelve."

"This was just after the deaths of your parents?"

"If you say so. Pardon me, Doctor, but these questions seem to be more about myself than the Joker."

"Does that scare you?"

Bruce shot back, "I'm a hard man to scare."

"I can see that."

"Can you also see that you avoided my concern?"

Harley sighed sweetly as if she knew something that Bruce didn't and said, "I've only had a few inquiries from people who met the Joker. Most of them were young Psych 101 students who bet on who could last the longest with the Joker. All of them who I interviewed said they were scared to be in the same room with the man. One young girl ran out screaming. She later tried to commit suicide that night. Those who could said that the Joker seemed to look into their soul and find their truth. It takes a strong mind to talk to the Joker and still remain stable. I happen to be one. And now I discover there is another."

Bruce nodded. "So, this isn't just an inquiry about the Joker. It's to see if I cracked after meeting him."

Harley replied, "The Joker isn't a typical patient, as you well know. He has an affect on some people."

"Even his visitors."

"Oh, honey, you aren't just any visitor. You're the guest with the highest profile that the Joker has ever seen. You wouldn't believe some of the things he said about you."

"I can think of a few. He knew things about me and tried to pass them off as something that happened to him."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure he's told you about how he got his scars."

Harley's eyes turned to sorrow. "Oh, yes. How tragic."

Bruce smiled knowingly and uttered, "Which version did you get?"

Harley frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The incident that he told me about sounded so familiar. It had all the elements of a tragedy that I, myself, went through."

"What makes you say he used it as his own?"

"Details. In his case, the lack of them. When I asked where his tragedy happened, he said at the corner of Figaro and Fifth." Harley gave him a blank expression. "I'm rather disappointed, Harley. You did research into the Wayne mansion in the Palisades, but you somehow missed the information where Thomas and Martha Wayne died. Everybody who's anybody in Gotham knows that corner. There's even a plaque to them there."

Harley suddenly gave a brightening look. "Oh, _that_ Figaro and Fifth. I thought you were talking about L.A."

He could see right through to her false behavior. "You know, there are several tell signs that indicate when a person is caught in a lie. Through my business practices, I've been able to detect a few of them. Any psychotherapist worth their weight would know them as well."

"Oh...well, thank you, Bruce," she beamed.

Now, Bruce was confused. He just made a veiled insult to her but she took it as praise. Who _was_ this woman? She gave Bruce the impression of a high school cheerleader who got up one morning and suddenly decided to be a criminal psychologist. He decided to go on. "My point is, Harley, was that there are some people who know those tells like the back of their hand. They know them so well that they know how to avoid them when they lie themselves. The Joker does this. He knew the details on my parents. He tries to use information about someone as leverage to get into a person's thoughts. Or their souls, as you said earlier. He uses other people's tragedies for his own enjoyment."

Harley straightened in her chair and her demeanor lost all of it's zip. She cleared her throat before she stated, "I really don't think you can analyze the Joker properly, _Dr_. Wayne. I mean, which of us is the psychotherapist here? You don't know about the Joker. You don't know how his father would beat him for his enjoyment. He would dress his son up like a clown and send him to school. He would follow him there and if he took off the costume he would go over and beat him in front of his classmates. The Joker's humility was his father's amusement. There was no other reason he gave. It was all just for laughs. The same way the Joker operates today. He uses violence as a means to entertain himself. He doesn't care who that hurts as long as he's having fun." She sighed before she said, "He's the most unique...man I ever met."

Bruce noted with a sense of urgency, "You admire him."

Harley smiled wryly. "You do have to admit, Bruce, there is something admirable about the Joker."

Bruce leaned in with his arms on the table with his own wry smile and said, "I'm sure you meant to say _seductive_."

Harley snapped back in a huff, "Just what are you implying, Bruce?"

Instead of directly answering her, Bruce said, "I don't mean to tell you how to do your job, Dr. Quinzel. But let me give you a warning. I've met this man face to face, as I know you have too. I'm a pretty good judge of character, if I say so myself. Believe me when I tell you that this man sets mental traps for his victims. You can see how dangerous he can be. Especially to a young, attractive intern who already has an interest in him. You did say something very true before. The Joker has no reason. He does things because he can. He's like a dog chasing cars. His fun with violence will never end. But I can assure you, Dr. Quinzel, if you follow him down his same path, _you_ will end."

For a few moments, there was silence after his words. Then came something that Bruce never expected. Her sudden laughter. Her high-pitched squeal burned his ears but he didn't react. He just watched her in pity and sorrow.

She finally started speaking after her laugh. "Boy, you _are_ smart. Just like the Joker said you were." She got up out of her chair and began walking around the table towards him. "And I must say, that was an interesting metaphor for him. A dog chasing cars." She made a point to look straight into his eyes. "That's _exactly_ how the Joker described himself when he first got here. Great minds think alike, I guess. He said you two thought alike. He said you were the only man who wasn't afraid of him. The man with no fear, he said."

Bruce sat back in his chair with an interest of where she was going. "Now how could the Joker possibly know that about me?"

She walked around to reach behind him in his chair and answered, "Ohhh, the Joker wasn't talking about Bruce Wayne." She bent down and whispered into his ear, "He was talking about your other self. _Batman_."

Tbc


	2. Part 2

**Shadow Self**

**Part II**

* * *

_And there it was._

The price for his gloating.

Had Bruce really expected the people who were told about the Joker's accusation of Bruce Wayne being Batman to take it seriously? Who would believe him? Other patients? Criminals? An impressionable young intern who seems to have fallen under the Joker's spell? How much did she really know? How much was she told? Then again, she might be grasping at straws with her accusation. She could just have a hunch from a hint given to her by the Joker.

Even if the Joker had resources outside of Arkham, there were no longer any connections between Bruce Wayne and Batman on paper. Those would lead to dead ends. Bruce made that mistake last year with Coleman Reese, the executive who inadvertently found plans for Batman's vehicle hidden deep inside Applied Sciences. Bruce and Lucius Fox solved that by making Applied Sciences public and certain files were listed as Classified.

So why did Harley bring up her accusation now? Perhaps there were signs that she was looking for. Bruce thought back to their conversation earlier. What could he have given away? Too much intelligence? Too many details detected, like the lack of cameras? He decided that he wasn't going to give her any more signs. "What are you talking about, Harley?"

"Ah, so you're going to deny what you said to the Joker. Something about Batman?"

Bruce's voice was even. "I never mentioned the Batman. He did. Several times. You've seen his artwork, Harley. He's obsessed with the man. Or whatever the Batman is."

"Hun, don't deny it."

"I can't deny anything if I don't know what I'm denying."

She uttered, "That you are the Batman."

Bruce laughed. "You _have_ to be kidding me. He said that? Harley, come on, after all that we both said about the man and you believe him?"

"It's not a question of me believing it. He does."

"Thus, in turn, implies that you believe it. Otherwise, I wouldn't be in a room alone and off the record."

"Not necessarily. The Joker's comments may have interested me enough to bring you in."

"Based on what? His words? We both know how he twists words. So allow me to set the unofficial record straight." He stated in a calm and even voice, "Bruce Wayne is _not_ Batman." He let a pause through before he asked, "Now, with all your expertise, am I lying?"

She eased her way around to the back of his chair and sounded like a defeated child on a playground when she huffed from behind him, "No."

"Exactly. The Joker's words are barely proof enough."

"Oh, I don't know about that." With a sudden lurch, Harley tilted the chair backward so that it was resting on its two back legs. The sudden move ejected Bruce out of the chair. He was of moderate weight but she lifted him out with more power than he imagined. He was more surprised than injured after he caught his footing to stand before her. His overcoat fell to the floor and the chair did a spin and landed back on its four legs.

He looked up at her face that was full of a challenge. She positioned herself into a defensive stance. She was ready for battle. He stared at her incredulously. "Harley. What are you doing?"

She removed a hairpin to let her blond hair flow down on her shoulders. She removed her wide-rimmed glasses and set them on the chair. Next she was in the process of removing her lab coat when she said, "I think it's time to see what 'cha got, Bruce Wayne. Just so you know, I was an excellent gymnast in high school."

"Harley, don't do th—"

It was too late. She already started into a hand stand and flipped forward end over end towards him.

He could have stopped her. He could have easily judged where her weakest point would be during her flips. He could have reached out and disrupted her move to slam her to the floor. He could have finished her easily.

But he couldn't.

Those were _Batman's_ moves.

Instead, he acted like a billionaire should. He stood in apparent disbelief and waited for the blow to come. He saw it coming a mile away. Her left foot aimed towards his face. Bruce did turn his head slightly to soften the hit. Her foot found his left cheek and he was spun around. He added more force than there really was from her hit and he made it look like he fell to the floor. He rubbed his cheek with his hand as he slowly got himself up. He wore a look of stunned surprise.

She returned to her defensive stance and waited for him to react.

He never did. He stood before her stoically.

She whispered in a voice close to rage. "C'mon, _Batman_! Fight back."

Bruce stated emphatically, "_I_ am Bruce Wayne!"

She ignored him and lunged closer. She started a series of punches to his chest. He did block them, but not all. He let a few in to hit his chest. He made it look amateurish. It would have taken no effort for him to grasp her arm and hold it in place while he performed a roundhouse kick to her abdomen.

Batman would have done that. Not Bruce Wayne. Wayne had no training to fight back. He defended himself sloppily. And that's what he showed to Harley.

She almost shouted, "Why don't you fight back like we both know you can?" She finally gave up and stepped back from him. She was catching her breath as she waited for his reply.

He breathed quicker after she stopped and proclaimed, "There is no way I am the Batman. Look how I was fighting you. I don't fight physically. My battles are won in a business office over sums of money. My weapon is my checkbook. You can't prove the Joker's little theory anymore. And you're going to stop trying now."

"What makes you so sure?"

Bruce smiled. "Because if you do beat me up any further, you're going to have a lot of explaining to do with Dr. Moss."

And that seemed to hit Dr. Quinzel as if a knife was thrust into her chest. She relaxed her defensive position. She started putting back on her glasses and lab coat. She fixed her hair up with the pin but it wasn't as smooth looking as before. She then took a moment of silence as Bruce fetched his overcoat from the floor. She finally said absently, "I believe I have all that I need from you, Mr Wayne."

Bruce put on his overcoat after he brushed off the dust and warned, "Are you sure that's all _he'll_ need, though?"

"Despite what you may believe, Mr Wayne, this exercise was for my benefit alone."

Bruce nodded but said, "You had better make sure of that, Dr. Quinzel." He had a sudden thought after he said her name and chuckled. "What was it that the Gotham Post called The Joker once? The Clown Prince of Crime." He looked into her eyes especially. "How perfect would a partner for The Joker be but a harlequin? Wouldn't you say, Dr. Harley _Quin_zel?"

She let out a long frustrated sigh. "I've heard that one so many times before."

"I'm sure you have. And I'm sure you would know that harlequin's were the entertainment to the servants outside of the high courts. Except in this case, if you serve the clown, your death may be his entertainment."

"That's insane," she snapped.

As he prepared to leave, he flashed a wry smile at her and corrected, "Now, Doctor, I'm sure the medical term you're searching for is mentally unstable. Have a nice day, Harley."

He left her alone in the room as he went through the maze of halls in reverse to find the office of Dr. Moss. Before he entered, Bruce rubbed his jaw again. He appeared in the doctor's doorway.

Dr. Moss looked up from the papers on his desk and peered at Bruce. "Ah, Mr. Wayne. Finished already? Did Dr. Quinzel get what she needed?"

"That and more, I believe."

"Good. Good. What did you think of our 'harlequin'?"

Bruce answered professionally. "Great attention to detail. Thorough. Intelligent. Though, you wouldn't notice all of that just by her looks."

"Or by her sound."

Bruce chuckled. "Yes, her laugh is a force to behold."

"That's putting it mildly." Moss softened his voice when he said, "She was pretty much a joke at GU. She barely passed her exam. But...she seems to work well with the Joker."

"How long has she worked his case?"

"She was an intern when he first came here. Now she's his primary doctor. Now, she's the only one he'll talk to. We jokingly call her Joker's girlfriend."

"Is that recommended for someone like the Joker?"

Moss shrugged. "Fact is, there is no one like the Joker. We don't exactly have a template for him."

"I certainly understand that. So he's monitored regularly?"

"In the beginning he was. Now it's all Dr. Quinzel's project. She's in charge of everything concerning the Joker now. She even keeps the recorded sessions to herself. Nobody else even hears them. Not even college interns anymore."

"Do you think that's safe?"

Moss shrugged. "The Joker won't have it any other way."

"I see. When did these closed sessions with him and Dr. Quinzel begin?"

"Oh, I'd say about a few months ago."

Bruce considered immediately that the timing was consistent with when his own reports of the Joker had ceased. Once again, the Joker was calling the shots even as a patient. And he was obviously working on Dr. Quinzel. He couldn't let that happen, though it may have been too late. He tried to warn Dr. Moss. "You may want to keep an eye on her. I had a sense that she has a strange connection to the Joker."

Dr. Moss almost chuckled but he caught himself. "_You_ have a sense? Look, Mr. Wayne, all of us here can see Dr. Quinzel's fascination with the Joker. I can assure you that any relationship they develop is purely professional. And the fact is that since the closed sessions, the Joker hasn't had any outbursts, or compelled any patients to commit suicide. So, whatever method that Dr. Quinzel is using, it _is_ working. Especially when considering who she is dealing with."

"I understand that. It's just that I feel that she intends to keep at this project of hers for some time."

"What gives you that impression?"

"She refused my offer to help her future education financially. Most people in that position would jump at the chance. "

This time, Dr. Moss couldn't stop from chuckling. "That's quite a stretch, Mr. Wayne. Maybe she doesn't want keep relying on your funds. Look, I'm sure you mean well, Mr. Wayne. But let's let the professionals handle their own work."

Bruce could translate the administrator's words easily. _You are a billionaire playboy and not a doctor. There's no way anyone is going to listen to you. Stay away and let us do our jobs._

If it was Batman standing before him, the doctor would not hesitate to consider his warning. As Bruce Wayne, it fell on deaf ears. Was it Batman's intimidating presence that made people listen? Or was it from a strange respect for what he was doing. Regardless of the reason, it was another indication that he could accomplish much less as Bruce Wayne.

After he said his farewell to Dr. Moss, Bruce considered that Batman would have to keep an eye on Dr. Harleen Quinzel. He had to make sure she doesn't fall into the same depths of mental instability as her special project already did. Batman would just have to schedule a few unexpected visits to Arkham.

Bruce thought to himself as he watched Dr. Moss go back into his office. _Go ahead and ignore my warning about Doctor Quinzel. Maybe you'll listen to Batman._

_Epliogue to continue..._


	3. Epilogue

**Shadow Self**

_**

* * *

Epilogue**_

The door of the session room squealed open and Dr. Harleen Quinzel entered. This end of Arkham Asylum was far from the white, clinical look of the front offices. Drab paint peeled from the walls and the spotted lighting made the area look dimmer than it was. She stepped inside with the door wide open. She turned to speak with the dark-skinned guard standing near the entrance.

"You can leave now, Cash. I want some privacy."

Cash scratched his forehead under the brim of his cap with his artificial two-pronged hand. "You think that's wise, Dr. Quinzel?"

"I know what I'm doing, Cash."

"Didn't say that, doctor. Just sayin'...be careful."

"I know, Cash. Thanks."

Cash started to leave when he added, "I'll be right outside this door in case you start screaming."

"Go," she said as she pointed outside.

Cash left and the door creaked closed behind him.

She turned and started walking towards the table set at the other end of the room. The figure sitting there was in the Arkham patient uniform and was hand-cuffed by a long chain to a ring set in the center of the table. His face was clear of any makeup, which made the scars across his mouth even more evident.

As she approached, he chimed in, "I hope you weren't too hard on poor Cash. He needs all the encouragement he can get. You should give him a hand." He laughed maniacally.

She reached directly across from him with high emotion. Without a word, she took her hand back and slapped it across his face with a loud smack.

He was stunned for a few seconds and then he ogled his eyes at her and bemused, "Rough day at work, honey?"

"Don't you _ever_ embarrass me like that again!"

He licked his lips casually and chose a sarcastic tone when he asked, "Why, whatever do you mean, dear?"

She replied in a lower voice, "There is no way that Bruce Wayne is the Batman. I...I felt like a fool coming at him like that."

"Hmm...first you hit him, and then you slap me. I do love it when you're forceful."

"Shut up!"

"Ah, got a little mouth on you, too." On seeing that she wasn't sharing his amusement, he asked her seriously, "Tell me...how was his, uh...defense?"

"Sloppy. Like a billionaire would be. He had no fight in him. He didn't use any moves. He did try to defend himself but it wasn't professional. I don't think the man's ever been in a fist fight before in his life. I could have gone on, but he..."

There was a pause that was too long for his liking and he beckoned, "He...what? C'mon, Harley, it's me."

"If I kept beating him up, I'd have to explain myself to Dr. Moss."

For a moment, it seemed he was processing what she was saying. And then he suddenly burst out laughing. He slapped his hand on the desk which rattled the chain between handcuffs.

Harley looked at him in disbelief. "Yeah, go ahead. Laugh. After all, it's not your career on the line."

He settled down and stated, "My sweetie, he _played_ you."

Harley squawked, "Ya think? Either he's as good as you say, or he's the dumbest fighter ever. I think you're way off if you think he's Batman, because I don't think he is."

"That's what he wants you to think. Oh, he _is_ good."

"Well, that's the last time I do any favors for you."

"Now, Harley. You know I hate to see you depressed." He licked his lips. "Lemme guess...he put some, uh...ideas in your little head, didn't he?"

"He might have," she spoke evenly. "Did your father really dress you like a clown and beat you if you tried to take it off?"

"With all of his blackened heart."

"Is that the truth?"

He leaned into her with his arms folded on the table. "Well...that depends."

"On what?"

"Which truth are you trying to find?"

Harley gave a loud exasperating sigh. "Ah! That's it! I'm tired of the games. Just like Bruce said." She turned to head back towards the exit when she heard a blood-curling call.

"Harley!" he growled like an enraged animal. When she stopped and turned around to face him, his demeanor changed from terror back to sweetness. He flashed a wide grin and pleaded, "Sweetie, don't leave like this. What he said doesn't matter. C'mon...stay. I'll tell you about my mother this time. It's a hell of a true story."

"What makes you think I'll believe you?"

He licked his lips before he answered, "Well, _I _believe it. Isn't that what you really want?"

"I guess so." She returned back to the table.

"And don't you worry about Mr. Wayne. He'll reveal his shadow in time."

She brightened. "You have a plan, don't you, Joker?"

He put his index finger up to his mouth. "Shhh...don't let it out. I've got a rep around here, ya know." He laughed. "Oh, by the way, I thought I told you never to call me that. C'mon, you know what to call me."

She gave an embarrassing look. "Not in here. There's too many ears in this place."

"Then I'll take a drill to all of them!" He laughed. "Come on, sweetie, you know you are the light of my life!"

Harley hesitated before she replied quietly, "I know..._puddin'_"

**THE END...?**


End file.
